


To Be A Cowboy

by Homestuckpotato



Category: Homestuck
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-04-02
Updated: 2014-04-02
Packaged: 2018-01-17 23:25:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 616
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1406440
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Homestuckpotato/pseuds/Homestuckpotato
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's not uncommon for the Striders to constantly move from place to place but this time it's different. This time it's to some town that's not even on the map.<br/>This town forces both Striders to learn things and become more than just the stoic brothers they've always been.</p>
            </blockquote>





	To Be A Cowboy

Your name is Dave Strider. Your currently sixteen years old and have received the worst news you can think of.  
Your moving.  
Now normally this wouldn't be surprising since your bro tended to make you pick up and move several times a year just because he could, but this time was different. This time he's making you move to the middle of nowhere. Some one stoplight 'town'  in the middle of nowhere Texas 300 miles from where you already live.  
Personally, you thought those kinds of towns didn't exist anymore, but apparently they do.  
"Bro why are we going to the middle of nowhere again?" You ask yet again, and he shrugs.  
"Change in scenery." That's been his answer the last twenty minutes, and you can tell he's laughing at your attempts to get a proper answer, even if he's not physically laughing. He never laughs. Both him and you are considered emotional robots, even if your the most emotional person in the state of Texas. It had something to do with the blackout shades and poker face that were both ever present.  
"Do they at least have takeout? If not, we're going to die of starvation because neither of us can cook and we eat takeout ten nights a week."  
"Speaking of, we need to get you back into school. There's only seven days in the week champ." You hate it when he calls you that. There is nothing cool, or even ironic, about being called champ. He does it purely to annoy you, but at least he isn't calling you your highness. He does that on occasion due to you winning lil miss Texas four years in a row. He had never been prouder, but he also won't stop giving you shit for it.  
You feel around for your shades. Sure you have a pair on, but they're not the ones you want. Three years ago for your birthday, one of your friends got you a sick pair of blackout aviator shades for your birthday, and you wanted to start wearing them again. It annoyed bro because he couldn't see the irony in them. You blame it on the fact that the shades are meant for old people like him. You'd never say that aloud though. Bro would beat you for it. He hated being reminded of his age, which not even you know, but apparently he's pretty old.  
"Bro have you seen my shades? The aviators, not the anime crap ones I'm wearing now."  
"I saw you put them in your backpack before we left. Try there." You turn around and reach in the back, grabbing the said bag before turning back around with it. The backpack contained your laptop, Xbox, and a few comics. The important things. Sure enough, sitting right on top, were your shades.  
You quickly switched the shades, but even the short amount of sunlight that reached your eyes made them burn like no other. That's just how it went though. You've been wearing shades since you killed that horse after falling from the sky on a meteor. The story seemed utter bs but it was an awesome story, so you left it alone. It would explain why there were no records of your birth, and you had checked. Either way, your eyes were still extremely sensitive to light of any kind, so the shades were a must unless you wanted to be constantly cursed with migrants.  
"Are we there yet?" You asked your bro, for the irony of the long trip, and he gave you the faintest smile.  
"Not yet your highness." You glared at him behind your shades, but otherwise stayed composed. Let the irony war commence.


End file.
